There would be always a story to tell when every time we went to board a flight. We went to the airport for our 7.20 am morning flight bound for Miri. I was wearing a black sleeveless tops and a rag jeans which I fold up a quarter up my knee (imagine Tom Sawyer overall). We were still drowsy from sleep deprivation when we reached the airport. I was especially drowsy because Ava’s feeding time +/-3 in the morning, I just can’t get myself to sleep after feeding her. I was carrying Ava in the Jumpsac SSC. Hubby walked way ahead of me and handed over our passports and Ava’s birth certificate to the immigration officer. The Immigration Officer was half asleep and was asking,
“How old is your kid?”
Hubby simply pointed at the back said,
“ Ah… em.. she is around 7 months old today”.
The immigration officer looked bewildered, fully awake,
“What?? 7 months old, cannot be!!
"Yes, she’s just reached 7 months on the last Saturday"… Hubby nodded with a sober face.
“You mean that girl with the backpack, worn in front is 7 months old?”
Hubby answered,“Oh that one (pointing at me) is not my daughter that’s my wife, we have a baby sleeping inside that “back pack.”
Apparently the officer was wondering why hubby handed him 3 documents, when he can only see 2 people. The thing is I must have looked like a school kid with my jeans rolled up, wearing sandals (looks extra short with any heels), bare naked sleepy face (no make-up) and carrying a “back pack”.